


Flashes

by Zeynara



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Fragile needs a hug, I don't know, Insecurity, Kind of one sided I guess, kind of sad, not quite romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 11:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21493618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeynara/pseuds/Zeynara
Summary: Fragile longs for human contact.
Relationships: Sam Porter Bridges/Fragile
Comments: 7
Kudos: 74





	Flashes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic ever and very possibly my last. Obviously I don't know how to tag as it is my first fanfic. I don't really know what this is, the pieces just kind of came to me last night and i edited them this morning. I saw that there was very little fics in this fandom so I decided to post mine. English is not my first language so any feedback is appreciated.  
I own nothing.

When she arrives at the beach and sees Sam lying on the sand, dirty and bruised she can't help but feel relieved. Then she sees Higgs, her pulse quickens and her jaw clenches as memories flash before her eyes. It feels good to punch him, but that is to little still after everything he has done. But when Sam hands her the gun it still somehow feels heavy and wrong in her hands. She wants Higgs to pay, sure, but not like this, it feels... wrong, too easy almost and as she’s checking the rounds she makes up her mind. She hoists the bag up on her shoulder leaving behind a bewildered looking Higgs. When she looks up she sees the two other occupants of the beach standing closely together, talking quietly. Fragile feels a sting of _something_ when she nears them and Amelie runs her perfect, porcelain hands over Sam’s bruised face. When she tries to hand him Higgs' mask he refuses and firmly says that she should keep it. She feels the beginning of a smile tugging at her lips, but then she sees Amelie's face twitch and it disappears before it has even appeared. To escape Amelie's searching eyes she ducks her head and takes out Sam's BB instead. She tries to joke but it sounds dry even in her ears and it doesn't have the desired effect anyways, Sam's expression remains neutral but Amelie seems to get even more twitchy. One of Sam's eyes has almost swollen shut and he looks more tired than she has ever seen him, and yet when he opens his arms and cradles his BB to his chest a small but warm smile brightens up his haggard face.

Fragile ignores Amelie's piercing stare and keeps her eyes steadily on Sam. “So where should I send you?” she tries for a gentle smile “Back east?”

Sam opens his mouth to answer but before a sound comes out Amelie has taken a threatening step towards her, blocking Sam from view. Fragile's smile slips from her face. She looks so perfect, her skin is smooth, her cheeks a beautiful rosy color, her figure is slim and delicate. Despite all that beauty Fragile can't help but feel distaste at the perfect woman, and her nose wrinkles slightly as if she just smelt something rotten. _He doesn’t need you anymore. He’s got me_. It's as if Amelie knows exactly where to hit to do most damage. No, no one needs her, no one want's her, no one likes her. And no one ever will. She's a damaged terrorist, nothing more. But then Sam says those words and it feels like a slap to the face. In her ears it sounds like rejection. Even when she quickly tells herself she is being foolish she can't help but feel the sting. She looks at Amelie and the smooth expanse of skin exposed by the deep neckline of her red dress, and the sting gets worse. _Wouldn't want to settle for anything less than perfection_. With one last look at Amelie she scoops up her bag, turns her back and walks away.

“Fragile?” Sam makes her name sound both like a question and plea mixed with a hint of desperation, and she just can't handle that right now. Something in the back of her head whispers that she's being unfair, but she shoves the voice aside, it's unfair that she is what she is. No one. Nothing. Either she's a terrorist or she's just not good _enough. Nothing but damaged goods._ Her sadness only serves to fuel her anger when she returns to Higgs and she beats him up some more before she lets him choose. Then she jumps.

***

She has been borrowing his shower whenever he's not there, it’s convenient. His bed to. It's often unmade or dirty but it's worth it, especially the few times she can smell _him_ beneath the dirt and blood and grime. It comforts her. He has noticed, she knows, a second pillow has mysteriously started appearing on the bed.

One time during a cold night after a particularly hard day she wonders, wonders what it would feel like if he was there beside her, warming the bed with his large frame. They wouldn't even have to touch, she thinks, just lay next to each other. But then she’s lying to herself again.

She misses it. Human contact. It has been so long since she has felt another’s touch. Not just a tap of the hand for a split second, no that doesn't count. Real touch. A hug. A kiss. A lover’ s embrace. The bed is cold, hard and big for her small figure so she doesn't scold herself for her thoughts, even if they seem impossible. He pulls away slower now, she has noticed, he no longer jumps away from her, from them, at the smallest contact like when she first met him and for that reason her touches have become lingering. It warms her heart every time he pulls away slower that the last.

She wonders if anything could become of them if he let her touch him, really touch him. Could they learn to _feel_? They are both broken, after all, in more ways than one. Could she even feel a lover’s touch in other places? Would he be able to give those touches to her? She thinks of Amelie and her perfect skin. Fragile isn’t even sure what the two of them are. It's the loneliness and rejection, she decides, that has her hand slipping down beneath the covers. Her fingers ghost over wrinkled skin as they travel down into her underwear. She's tentative, she can't even remember the last time she was scared of her own body. She never dared after what Higgs did to her, she was scared of what she might discover, she'd decided it would be best not to know. But that night she does. And she weeps.

***

The first time _he_ touches_ her_ she almost cries, almost. She can't. Not with the others watching. And it's no mere hand tap. It's a hug. It happens when he sees her for the first time after they pull him out. He has been crying. His face is puffy and swollen. She can guess the reason. Has seen it. Lou didn't make it. The BB's little face looked so peaceful that she didn't realize it at first, she looked like she was asleep. _Don't get attached, they are just equipment_. How could they be? She can remember little Lou spinning happily in her pod, gurgling and blowing bubbles. She has never had a BB herself, she always thought it seemed so wrong. A tiny little human used as if it was an object without emotions, without the ability to feel pain, happiness, love. She thinks of Lou reaching her little hands out to Sam, of Lou regarding her with curious eyes, of Lou whining with unhappiness when Sam jumped without her. So she holds him, not tightly like she wants too, she doesn't want to scare him away, but it feels good to be so close to another human again. He lets out a shuddering breath against her neck and she half expects him to break right there, but he doesn't.

When he pulls away his expression is back to neutral.

***

Only a couple of nights after that she comes to his room only to discover that he is asleep. It’s eerily quiet without Lou's quiet cooing. They are all desperately trying to find a solution but she imagines they all know they’re only delaying the inevitable. She means to turn away and go but instead she is rooted to the spot, unable to turn away from his sleeping form.

It takes her a minute to realize that he is shaking. It takes another minute before she realizes he's having a nightmare. She considers leaving. But then a pained whimper escapes him and she knows she can’t. Before she can fully process it, she’s across the room, shaking him awake. His shoulder is warm against her bare hands. She has taken to wearing her gloves less often and her constricting jacket has been replaced by a hoodie with a high collar, at least when she doesn’t need her suit that is. She feels better now. With the rest of the team to keep her company when she needs them she feels more comfortable. Less alone. She doesn’t keep her walls as high as she did before. But when his eyes fly open and he sits up sharply she snatches her hand back. His breath is falling short and his chest rises and falls quickly.

“Sorry, I came by and saw that you were having a nightmare.” Fragile say tentatively, standing awkwardly a few steps away from him. “Just thought I’d wake you.” He doesn’t say anything for a while, just sits there staring at the floor. His shoulders are hunched and his head hangs low, his hair obscuring his face from view. His breathing has quieted by the time she shakes herself from her thoughts. “I- sorry. I’ll leave.” she mutters and turns on her heal.

“Fragile!” his voice echoes in the otherwise quiet room, rougher than usual, from sleep. She turns back slowly. “I eh… thanks.” He is standing up one of his hands hovering in the air as if he isn’t sure what he’s reaching for. “I mean, thank you. Really. I- “he lets out a frustrated sigh and sits back down on the bed. Fragile stands there, not sure what to do, her hands have disappeared up the sleeves of her hoodie. Now she just feels exposed. “I dreamt of Lou.” She looks up in surprise, she hadn’t expected him to share. His eyes are closed. “I couldn’t save her before and now she- “his voice breaks slightly and Fragile takes a step towards him. “-she’s dead again.” She knows what he means of course, has heard his story, seen the photo.

“I’m sorry.” She can’t think of anything else to say, nothing could lessen the pain from such loss. And she doesn’t want to give him false hope. He seems to take a moment to compose himself, he seems to have trouble swallowing.

“Thank you. It… it means a lot.” There is another pause. She should leave she tells herself, but she can’t bring herself to, not when he sits there looking so thoroughly broken. When she sits down on the bed there’s a full 2 feet between them. They sit in silence for a while. Her arms have woven themselves around her middle and she tries to think of something to do or say but her mind is blank for solutions to his saddens. It’s him that finds the temporary fix, not a solution, besides a miracle there is no solution. She is surprised when he scoots over and shocked when he reaches out to her. But she lets him, of course she lets him. And when his arms wind around her and he begins to shake with grief and later when he falls asleep in her arms, she is grateful for her hoodie, grateful that she’d shed her jacket that was a barrier in many ways. When she awakens a couple of hours later their fingers have somehow intertwined.

***

When he leaves the next day she feels as if she’ll break into a million pieces. She was not prepared for that. She thought they had connected on some level. _I've got no ties to anything or anyone_. Tears roll down her cheeks, real tears, not the few small ones that fall when BTs are nearby, no these are big and ugly and her cheeks sting for hours afterwards.


End file.
